Trill

Acknowledgments

First Published by Wilfried Voss of Copperhill Media in 2011.

To Yolanda Campbell for edits.

To all my fans who have discovered my very first vampire book, Ascension, and need to read this one, the continuation of Sabrina Strong Series.

To my good friend, Jared Lash, who wears many hats, and helped me with various computer problems. You rock!

Thanks to all friends and fans who have discovered my book, and gave me great reviews.

And to the stray cat who wandered into our yard Phantom who I've used to base Mrs. Bench's cat on, and my husband has been feeding ever since.

Chapter 1

Cold, hard ground beneath me—it was as though every bone in me had been broken. I tried to remember why I was outside without a stitch on. Plus the taste of blood in my mouth almost made me gag.

I cracked my eyes open. My breath came out in wintry clouds as I strove to pull cold air into my lungs. Above, in the crisp, midnight blue sky, stars glittered coldly, indifferently. Suddenly, I remembered why I was here, naked. I got quite frustrated when I couldn't remember what my activities had been for the last several hours. I didn't see the moon above me, full and bright, as I knew it had been when the transformation began.

Sabrina? the voice startled me at first, but I knew who it was and remembered he had been with me.

While assessing my physical and mental well-being, I heard him move. The brittle rustle of month old, machine chewed, corn shocks filled my ears. I was in a field. I knew this, but why was it so hard for my brain to function?

The dark outline of a man hovered over me. He was naked too. It would have startled me otherwise, but I knew it was Dante Badheart—shifter, work mate, and used-to-be-lover—he had joined me on my first night of the change. Earlier he had pulled his black hair back off his face into a thick, long braid.

Memory of those moments before the full moon rose slowly returned to me. We'd braided each other's hair in the darkness while seated on the blanket, before the moon rose over the peak of a slight rise in the park where we waited. He'd said it was advisable.

Sabrina? Are you alright? Dante lowered himself to his knees beside me, and his voice became my only anchor, pulling me back out of the abyss, back to my very human condition.

Before I could answer, bile rose. I leaned over, and vomited, retching and spitting a few times after I was done. Now I knew the reason why he'd recommended we tie our hair back.

Oh, God, I gasped weakly, trembling in the cold. I can't remember a thing.

Dante's warm hands helped me to sit up and then, gradually, to stand.

Be glad you can't, he said in that quiet, reverential tone that gave this night the feel of some weird religious rite. C'mon. He held me for a moment when I refused to budge. He was warm—too warm for someone who was as naked as I was. Still, I shivered so violently my teeth chattered like castanets. I wanted to run my hands over his muscled shoulders and arms, up his well-muscled chest. How long had it been since we'd made love? Ten days? Felt like more.

He moved slightly, parting my thoughts like fog in a breeze. My balance failed me. I was weak, vulnerable, and a little stupid. Naked in the middle of November in a cornfield—that's crazy but not something I could help.

C'mon. This way. He braced me with an arm around my waist, and guided me forward, through the harvested cornfield toward a black, thirty- or forty-foot tall wall of mature white pine trees against the backdrop of slightly lighter violet blue sky. This was where we had begun our descent into our strange night among the wild things. My feet felt heavy, my toes numb, as I shuffled over chopped up corn stalks, discarded cobs, and leaves. I wanted to run to where we had shucked our clothes off, where I remember waiting for the change that had come over me once the full moon rose, but resisted. Now, images of what I'd experienced as my creature came back to me in flitting bits and pieces. It was like viewing it through a keyhole, as though watching some weird film. I realized I was in denial. That wasn't me. Couldn't have been me!

Dante wasn't a Were. He was a shift changer, and he had control over when and into what he changed. Normally he'd change into a beautiful, sleek, black jaguar, but tonight, he'd changed into a wolf, since that's what was likely out and about on a full moon.

Who knew what I became—I'd been bitten, not born. I was angry over this turn of events in my life—one I had no control over whatsoever—I wanted to kill Frank Lundeen, the Werewolf who'd bitten me almost a month ago. But I was pretty sure he was long gone. God save him if he ever came back to my neck of the woods.

We picked our way through the sharp, broken corn stalks, and found the place where the fence was twisted, and pushed down to about a foot off the ground and easy to step over, and then we traversed it carefully to avoid the rusted barbed wire with bare feet and legs.

Once we crossed into the park, we were under the sheltered canopy of white pines; their scent filled my senses. We padded across the bed of soft pine needles. They clung to my bare feet and stuck between my toes. Used to the darkness now, my eyes picked out the secret spot beneath the dead lower limbs of the pines. We had chosen this place mainly because Dante felt we'd be safe from farmers who might shoot at us, and we could avoid me killing something I shouldn't. Besides, he said the hunting would be better. I didn't want to think about it—that I'd probably killed an innocent, cute bunny, as I picked something that tasted suspiciously like fur out of my teeth; I needed a toothbrush and a pint of Listerine, and some painkiller. Of course, in an hour, I probably wouldn't feel like every bone and joint in my body had been reshaped, and organs had changed their size and configuration in my body.

Thankfully, I dropped to the soft blanket and found my pile of clothes, and Dante knelt next to his.

Thanks for coming out with me, I said between chattering teeth, my hands grasping at my clothes and trying to find the arm and neck holes.

No problem, he said. Wouldn't miss your first time.

I struggled into my jeans, pulled on my shirt, and yanked on my socks and shoes. I wanted to get into his car, get back to my place, and get warm, pronto. Like in two seconds.

Uh, I'm freezing! I said.

Why are you so cold?

Because it's frigging cold out here, okay? Aren't you cold?

No.

Must be nice to have a hot body, I retaliated, then squeezed my eyes. Scratch that.

He chuckled. Sorry. He didn't sound sorry.

You're full-blooded shifter, I snarled while tying my shoes. I'm a frigging freak. I'm probably ugly as hell when I shift.

No. You're not ugly, he said.

I am too, I argued heatedly as I jumped to my feet and shuffled around to get my jacket. Only I found Dante in my space. He grabbed me by the shoulders. Tonight was the first physical contact we'd had in weeks. Not since Bjorn Tremayne's edict telling him that I was off limits had he touched me in an intimate way. If Dante wasn't Tremayne's scion, he might have gone behind his back, especially since Tremayne's incarceration, as he couldn't physically stop him. But there had been spies—vampires from Tremayne's inner circle—who had been staying at my house, surely placed there to spy on us. I was sure that anything Dante and I did got back to Tremayne, so we had resisted kissing each other. We had to stop everything. I didn't know how Dante was handling this, but I was frustrated. In addition, I was angry half the time, short tempered the other half, and horny all the time. Although right now, I felt relaxed, slightly euphoric, and that made me seriously wonder what else we did while all furry, I simply didn't want to dwell on the fact that the beast coming out of me this time of month was making things harder, more complicated.

Dante's face was mostly in shadow, but the glitter of his gray eyes shone under the thick canopy of pines. His hand's warmth actually came through my sweatshirt. How I wanted to steal his warmth for five or six minutes. I pressed into him and leaned my head on his chest. I needed him to comfort me after such an ordeal. He put his arms around me and I finally felt myself physically relax. My Knowing came over me, and the vision of us in our animal states threatened to engulf me. I tried to block it, but it roared to life in my mind's eye—me racing across a moonlit field, the wolf keeping up with me. Once he nipped me on the back, and then we went tumbling…

You're not ugly, Sabrina Dante's voice pulled me away from the vision. Not when you shift, and not now. I could never think of you as anything but wonderfully alive, vibrant, and pretty.

Pretty ugly, I muttered, turning my face and trying to pull myself out of his arms. Strong arms held me in place.

Quit saying that! His voice became a growl. He sounded agitated. I had never seen him angry. Not with me, anyway. Well, I'd pushed him, hadn't I?

Okay, I relented. I'm not ugly, but I'm not pretty when I shift. How could I be?

You'd have to be another shifter or Were to understand.

And all male, I'm sure, I quipped, then regretted it immediately. I didn't want to start an argument. We'd had plenty of those in the past few weeks.

You want to know what happened? He let me go and crossed his arms across his chest, a challenge in his voice.

I already know, I said, and briskly turned aside. I didn't want to know that I ate something furry, and I especially didn't want to know we'd had sex while shifted.

I had wanted this night to be over with ever since I understood I would probably become a Were-creature. The question of whether or not I would change was undetermined until now. Nicholas Paduraru, the first vampire I'd ever met, had been with me when the Werewolf bit me. He had sucked the venom from the wound within moments of the bite. Tonight's transformation confirmed that he had not gotten it all, or else the poison was exceptionally aggressive and had reached deeper into my system than he could access. Whichever it was, I was now some sort of Were-person, not able to change completely into a wolf, but somewhere in between wolf and human during the full moon every twenty-seven, or twenty-eight days.

Now fully clothed, we trekked back toward Dante's car in the parking lot of the forest preserve. It was a long hike, and I was aching for the warmth of my own bed, and the sanctuary of my own house less than a mile away.

As we topped the hill, our ears pricked to sounds alien to the night and its creatures. Dante dropped to a crouch on the path through dead stalks of tall prairie grass and prairie flowers. Swaying slightly in the breeze, the plants stood taller than a man and made for useful cover. I sank beside him in the long, golden grasses, my senses humming. We both peered through the screen and saw a black and white county police car, its headlight beams lighting up the back of Dante's black Mustang. The police radio crackled every now and then, with a voice or some static.

Shit, Dante swore softly. Man of few words, he echoed my thoughts exactly.

I remained silent. Either we had to walk back to my place, or wait for this idiot to give him a ticket and leave. I voted we wait it out. Dante didn't have to ask me, he could read my mind—telepathy being one of his many natural talents.

We watched the uniform return to his own car, and ducked in to call over his radio. I could hear the transmission, but I couldn't quite make out the words. I presumed he was radioing the license plate numbers to find out whose car it was, see if there were any wants or warrants, etc. He would only find it registered to Bjorn Tremayne, not Dante Badheart since it wasn't actually his car but from a line of cars owned by Bjorn Tremayne of Chicago.

In my first week at Tremayne Towers, Dante and I had become intimate on Tremayne's orders, and it didn't take much to persuade me since Dante wasn't a vampire and didn't frighten me as Tremayne and Nicolas did. Plus, he was handsome as hell. My dating list of guys now included shifters and vampires, but it was a testament to what my life had become recently that normal human men were now not nearly as intriguing to me, and I made my decisions about who I would see based on whether he had warm blood and a darker complexion than milk.

I glanced over at Dante, his handsome Native American features partially washed in the lights from the cruiser. My gaze lingered on his sexy mouth. What I wouldn't do to kiss those lips again…

While we sat there in the long grass waiting, the sound of gravel crunching drew our attention away from the Mustang and cruiser to find another set of headlights piercing the darkness along the winding drive of the park. I couldn't tell, but I thought it was another cruiser, until it came closer. Unless it was an unmarked, it looked like a regular car, and it parked directly behind the police unit and cut its lights to parking ambers.

The patrolman unfolded himself from his cruiser as two people emerged from the new arrival. I wasn't sure, but I thought the sporty car's color looked deep maroon. Also, I wasn't entirely sure if the two people who'd gotten out were men or women as their hair was shoulder length. When I heard their voices, I knew exactly who they were. Their British accents made them, and my heart did a crazy little dance between happiness and dread. This could go one way or another, and I wasn't sure I wanted to watch.

The twins, Dante confirmed for me, but he didn't need to. I nodded, my gaze never leaving the scene. The voices traveled to our ears. The twins, Heath and Leif Sufferden. Originally from Liverpool, England, they had been turned in 1969. And yes, they had been freaking Beatles fans back then and still are—at least Heath is.

This car wouldn't be either of yours, would it? I heard the uniform ask.

Well, yes it would be, replied one of them.

Mind telling me why it's parked here after hours? the uniform asked.

Broke down. Out of gas… came voices in stereo.

Well, which is it?

I have the gas can in the back, said one—I had to guess that had been Leif. His brother, Heath was still standing a few feet in front of the uniform. Obviously, the cop had no idea that the two men were vampires, and if it weren't for the vampiric laws in place, he'd be dead meat right where he stood—all the better for him.

You got some ID? he asked.

Sure. Heath reached in his back pocket. Wallet out, he stepped forward. Both vampire and human faced one another in the wash of amber and red lights. There came a long pause where no one spoke. Leif moved around their car, empty handed from the open trunk, and now both vampires were in front of the uniform.

Then, without a word, the policeman turned around, got into his car, and drove off. This explained why vampires never got speeding tickets. Mind control by a vampire was total.

Dante was up and moving before I realized it, and I sprinted to catch up. He stopped beside the twins as I pulled up beside him, panting slightly.

What brings you two to this neck of the woods? Dante asked.

I cast my eyes on both young men. Twenty-one, and nearly identical down to the wavy, shoulder-length, caramel-blond hair, but I could tell them apart these days. Heath had a more innocent, open face than his brother. Leif simply oozed danger. I saw it every time he looked at me.

We were driving by—

No, they won't believe that story, Leif broke in. Tremayne wanted us to keep an eye out, just in case you needed help tonight. I'd say we got here just in the nick.

Yeah, gosh, thanks, Dante said with an aw-shucks voice that didn't belong to him. He was about to give me a ticket. Gee-whiz, you done stopped him.

I snickered. Heath stifled his chuckle when Leif shot him a nasty look.

We actually were prowling for women, Heath joked. But at six-thirty in the bloody morning you're not likely to find any.

Yeah. Especially in a cornfield, mate, his brother put in.

So, what's the real story? Dante asked with his hands on his slim waist.

Really, Tremayne wanted to make sure Sabrina didn't come to any trouble.

I thought that's why I was here. Dante sounded slightly peeved.

Here it comes, brother, Heath said low, leaning conspiratorially toward Leif.

Don't matter, Leif said, hands out in placation. Anyway, we're here following orders. That's all.

Dante checked his watch. He looked up at both vampires. It's nearly dawn.

Leif and Heath exchanged looks. Can we bunk at your house, Sabrina?

Sure, I said. Follow us.

I was advised to make a room on the north side of my country home impervious to sunlight. I'd chosen my brother's old room because it only had two windows and both faced north. I'd covered them in aluminum foil, bought heavy, dark violet blue drapes to go over them, and matching carpet, as well as the bedspreads. Well, yes. Vampires do sleep in beds, not coffins, who knew? There was a bolt lock on it to make sure that the occupants—whichever vampire chose to come and stay with me—would not be disturbed while they rested during the day. It wasn't unusual to have one, or both the twins stay with me a few nights a week now. Tremayne had pressed his vampire elite guard into service to watch over me during the night since his brother's murder. Dante was my guardian during the day. Up until recently, he'd been my lover, and it made me burn with anger that he couldn't be my lover anymore. I couldn't decide who I was angrier with—Bjorn, or Dante.

Thus was my life—at least for the past three weeks. That was when I had started working at Tremayne Towers in Chicago for Bjorn Tremayne. He was the magnate of the eastern half of the North American Vampire Association. Of course, as things currently stood, he was actually the only magnate in the whole country—there had once been two. Bjorn's brother, Erik, had recently been killed by Toby Hunt (a wannabe, ascended vampire who'd done his best to erase all of us one night in Earthly Pleasures, a restaurant on the vampire side of the Towers). A master certainly had to take over for Erik, and there were none in the United States to take his place. Except possibly Nicolas Paduraru, who was pretty damned close to a master from what I'd heard. He was now acting as temporary stand-in for Bjorn. Oh yeah, Bjorn was no longer acting in his role as magnate. In addition to everything else, Bjorn Tremayne was awaiting trial for killing a human (he'd drained his date, which is illegal). Once Tremayne had his trial, he would be reinstated, at least, we hoped he would. No one knew when this trial was to take place, but it had to be coming up soon. We were still waiting to see what was going to happen with the open seat for the western half.

We all folded ourselves into our respective cars: Dante and I in the black Mustang; the twins in the Eclipse Spider. We all drove out of the park and turned toward my house, which was down the road, around the corner. My house sat on a hill, which also over-looked the replanted prairie and wetlands of the southern portion of this forest preserve. Behind my house was the farmer's field in which Dante and I had scampered the night away as our creatures.

Looking forward to a shower and an all-day sleep, and not expecting any more trouble, I should have been relaxed, but I wasn't. I was already feeling apprehensive as we left the park, and the feeling became unbearable the closer we got to my home.

Something's wrong, I said, as Dante turned the corner and headed toward my house. He glanced over at me, slowed down, and braked until he almost stopped. The twins in the Eclipse were behind us, and they had slowed down, too.

What is it?

I closed my eyes. As a Touch Clairvoyant, I could take a read of anything or any place, if I were close by, and Know something about the people, or their mood. At times, it saved me from walking into a bad situation. My brother and I could never play hide-and-seek because I'd know, right away, where he was. In some cases, I would have to touch an object, or enter a room to get a read from those who were in the room, but this involved my house—my home for twenty-one years—and I didn't like the vision I was getting. It was disturbing.

Danger, I think. Maybe. Or—I mostly feel agitation and hostility. Reading from this distance was hard, but I concentrated on the task. Harleys—I see men and women. Werewolves.

Yeah, Weres, Dante agreed. There was a whole group of them out last night, he informed me. I gaped at him. I see lights from motorcycles up at your place. He flicked his gray gaze on me, meeting my own in the predawn. There was a fresh cut on his cheek, partially healed. Had he defended me from said Werewolves? Briefly, I touched his cheek.

The enormous grizzly bear turned on the pack of wolves, rose to his ten-foot stature, and roared, massive paws brandishing sickles for claws. The Werewolves backed down.

Unsettled by the picture I was getting from his battle with Werewolves, I turned my gaze to where my house sat on the hill. From our position, I could see the house and barn's silhouettes against the brighter eastern sky. The sight of the sky's gradual pink, orange, and turquoise banners gave me a jolt. The twins needed to get into a darkened room real soon, or face the sun's burning rays. A hundred thoughts rushed through my head so fast making me feel dizzy, but the Knowing took precedence.

They want something from me, I muttered and swallowed, straining not to go into a total blackout, which sometimes happened when a vision of future or past events came to me too strongly. They think I know something. I let out a breath nearly overwhelmed by this new complication.

What do you want to do? Dante's hand came over mine, he squeezed it briefly, interrupting my read, then let it go. I knew what the Weres wanted.

I cut my gaze to meet his. The twins need to escape the sun.

I know that. His voice was calm and unperturbed.

I think we'd better go see what they want.

Okay. He put the car into drive, drove up the hill, turned into my long driveway, and sat there looking at all the bikes and bikers arranged off to one side of the teardrop loop drive, near the house. It was like a mini-rally. There might have been ten to a dozen Harleys. Leather-clad, chain-smoking, rough-looking women stood beside rougher looking men. All of them tattooed, and hairy, looking like the worst of the worst—the men that is. The women looked like bitches from hell.

What do you think? I wasn't the mind reader. Dante was.

I think they just want to talk. But every one of them has either a gun, knife, or chains to back up their threats if it comes down to it, he explained at length.

Oh, good. I thought that maybe I was nervous out of respect for the tattoos.

That earned a smile.

They don't know that I was the one who beat them off as a bear, he added, leaning toward me.

And me as a… Were-creature?

Maybe they know that. Be careful what you say to them.

Right. I don't think I'll ask them over for Thanksgiving, if that's what you mean.

One side of his mouth went up in a half-snort.

Anything else? I asked.

I'm getting the name Lundeen, mostly.

Yeah. Me too.

You know anyone named Lundeen? he asked with a subtle hint of curiosity in his questioning voice as he peered at me. Okay, he probably read my mind, since he was a telepath.

He's the one who bit me twenty-seven nights ago, so you can thank him for my need to howl at the full moon.

Ah, that's right. You did mention him once in passing.

Right. I did.

Several of the men had dismounted from their Harleys, and now stood waiting along with the women, who stood off to the side in a small clique, smoking and glaring at us as if we were the slime balls.

One individual stood out from the rest. His brown-to-gold hair was arranged into the longest dreadlocks—the thick-as-snakes kind—I'd ever seen, trailing down beyond his studded belt, the lengths moving slightly in the breeze, and nearly as long as Dante's tresses, but not as beautiful. He wore a black bandanna around his head that brandished a white skull. Gold earrings also boasted skulls, as did a large, intricate, bronze belt buckle. I figured this must be their emblem because I saw it repeated on headgear, jackets, jewelry, and tattoos throughout the rest of the gang. Black leather driving gloves covered his hands. He wore tight-fitting jeans strategically worn or torn in just the right spots to induce lust from a female admirer. I had no trouble in the predawn light noticing the tats that covered his bare arms, as well as portions of his neck and where the leather vest didn't cover on his stomach and chest.

Dante strode toward the dreadlocked leader, while I stood a few feet behind him. I sensed Heath and Leif come up around our car and angled in to stand like two guards in front of me, and right behind Dante. The women of the group ogled both of them shamelessly. Vampires naturally send pheromones into the air, and any human of the opposite sex within a twenty-foot radius couldn't resist the sudden seduction. I was a little surprised that Were women could be overwhelmed by vampire pheromones, but I was relatively new to all this and was still at the learning stage.

What can we help you with? Dante asked, and his voice, though spoken at a normal tone, resonated over the motorcycles' rumblings.

Dreadlock's fist shot up, and the Harley engines stopped. Now morning silence slipped into the gap. I could hear birdsong, and geese cackling over on the ponds nearby. The crows flying overhead with their harsh calls threw a deeper note of dread into me.

We only want some answers, Dreadlocks announced.

What's the question? Dante wasn't going to play with these guys, I could feel his impatience with the posturing and threats that began right away.

One of our pack members is missing. He's not in any local jails—or hospitals. But we understand a clairvoyant lives here.

Dante didn't look back at me. I was the only clairvoyant here.

You want this clairvoyant to tell you where this person is? Dante asked.

Dreadlocks sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring, gaze going slightly skyward, and to the side. After a few seconds, he said, I don't wanna talk to you, Shifter. I wanna talk to the lady there. It's her scent that's strong everywhere around here. His eyes narrowed when he looked at Dante, and then opened wider when they darted to me. He didn't move so much as shifted his weight and shoved his thumbs into his pockets. The effect was startling. He'd gone from confrontational to cool and aloof in two seconds flat.

You're the one who lives here, he said to me. It wasn't a question. My name is Hobart. I'd like to know who I'm addressing. His tone was respectful, he spoke clearly, and I detected an intelligent, if not cunning, mind. This was only the second time I'd encountered a full-blooded Werewolf.

Aside from feeling as if my heart had dropped clean out of my chest, I was actually holding up. I cleared my throat and said, My name is Sabrina. Sabrina Strong. Dante had moved slightly to my left so that I could speak to this Hobart character.

Hobart smiled, and I was amazed to see large white teeth with one of the front ones capped with gold. The smile made him look almost pleasant, but you somehow knew you couldn't trust it. The cunning behind it spoke volumes.

Hobart's one hand rested on the hilt of a big knife at his hip—something I'd overlooked, but I was certain Dante had not. The twins both drifted in a little closer. They were doing their vampire thing, as if to show that they weren't simply window dressing and that they would fight tooth and nail for me. I'd seen them fight other vampires once. I honestly didn't want to see a vampire tear a Were apart on my front lawn, and have to worry about explaining it to the cops.

You have vampires who protect you? Hobart asked, taking in my companions.

I guess I do. I didn't know if that impressed him, or made him fear me, or what.

I've come to see you, Sabrina Strong, he said, eyes narrowing. Because you're the clairvoyant I've heard so much about.

Okay. So I am, I said, wondering how he'd heard about me, and, most of all, how he found out where I lived. I didn't know how he, a total stranger, would know that I had second sight. Had someone written my name and number in some men's john? Clairvoyant, cheap, call… I didn't go around blabbing it, and I hadn't done any reads for anyone. Except in front of Jeanie Woodbine's mother.

I'm hopin' you can tell us what we want to know, he added, and turned to look back at his pack members. They all made noises of agreement. One fairly large, bald guy with tattoos up and down his beefy arms was the loudest on this. I didn't like the attitude that they could make me do a read.

You want to know where Frank Lundeen is? I said.

They looked stunned that I knew what they wanted. Of course, I knew what they wanted to ask me. Duh.

That's right, Hobart said his smile deepening as he took in the other members. I could tell that his pals had not been believers a few minutes ago.

A slight weight on my feet made me look down, at the same time I scuffled back about three inches across the gravel. A large black and white cat with longish fur had settled its haunches on my foot. Its tail was completely black, and looked like a duster, it had two large black spots on its sides and odd markings on the face—his nose was completely black, and black spots above the eyes at the base of the ears, and below his chin made an odd cut-out face, if you squinted. Its golden-green eyes gazed up at me, and he meowed hoarsely. It was one of Mrs. Bench's cats from across the road. Focused on what was going on around me, I couldn't begin to guess why it was here. Then, I saw how this was going to end. The quick vision came to me as the cat made himself comfortable on my feet.

I don't know where he went, I said. Which was true, I didn't. I would need an object of his to use, but I simply didn't do that sort of read for just anyone at the drop of a hat.

The cat stood and strode forward toward the house, letting out a long meow, as if to tell me to follow.

Feeling imbued with strength and courage, I stepped forward, straight toward Hobart, who was standing in front of my front porch, as if to block me from getting to it. Dante took my hand, the twins strode behind us, side-by-side, and I knew as long as the large cat led us through the group, these Werewolves couldn't touch us. In fact, as the white cat moved forward, Hobart flinched suddenly, and had to step aside, almost as if the cat had pushed him. He gave it a startled look, and then glanced up at us.

Dante's head kept swinging from side to side, watching the other members of the gang, who also were backing up as though some invisible hand was pushing them back. As we strode between them, I heard booted feet shuffle in the gravel, oaths spewed left and right—some of the vilest things I'd ever heard, but they couldn't move toward us.

I looked back as we made it through the horde, and passed the women who sneered and yelled obscenities at us. It was all they could do. Glancing back, I saw Hobart with his one hand up. No doubt his one motion was all that kept the others from pouncing, or pulling a weapon on us. Backpedaling, facing the gang, Heath and Leif made skipping steps while keeping up with us.

We made the porch. Pausing at the door, I turned and made eye contact with Hobart. You bring me something of Lundeen's, and then maybe I'll take a read for you. That was my final word on the subject. Have a good day.

I dug my key out and plugged it into the lock. In a few seconds, we were inside. I gave out an exhalation of relief as I shut and re-locked the door quickly. Heart thundering, I pressed my back against the door.

Luv, that was the most exciting time I've had in a fortnight, Leif said.

Oi, did you see their faces? It was like—like magic! Heath added.

"It was magic," I said as I bent to pet the white cat's head and smooth my hand over his back as he arched himself against my legs. He made a soft meow as it looked up at me.

I'd have to agree, Dante said. Who's your friend?

I was gazing down at the cat as the Harleys' engines fired up with loud, piston cracking sounds. I had to cover my ears. Until they all drove away, I couldn't speak and be heard.

Finally, I said, My neighbor, Mrs. Bench's cat. She lives across the road there. I pointed in the general direction.

Did you know she was a witch? Dante asked.

Uh, yeah. I gave him a sheepish look. I was supposed to have gone to see her. She'd asked me at my father's funeral to stop by and see her, and said that it was essential, but I'd put it off. I knew that once I saw her, my life would change, more than it had changed in the past month.

We'd love to stay and discuss what just happened, but… Leif trailed off with his eyes half-lidded.

Heath yawned deeply.

Oh, no. I understand, you guys go on up. You know the way. No sooner had I said that, the two vampires rushed to the middle door of three, threw it open, and galloped up the wooden stairs—the door closed on its own (a trick I realized the vampire could use from time to time). We could trace their footfalls trotting down the hall above us. The door to the bedroom made a whining creak, and then slammed shut. I imagined their shoving the lock into place and falling into their beds. My old bedroom, at the end of the stairs, was now an unused space until I figured out what I could do with it. I'd turned my father's old, downstairs office into my new bedroom. It was a bigger room, and I'd wanted to have a bedroom downstairs ever since my father's death several months ago. Finally, I'd done it. I didn't want to move the old furniture downstairs, so I'd bought a new bedroom set with some of the bonus money I'd gotten from Tremayne for the work I'd done for him. It had been satisfying using my clairvoyant abilities and being paid exceedingly well for telling him who had killed his life mate, Letitia.

Arms folded, Dante said, He isn't a normal cat. We both eyed the cat. His face reminded me of a clown's face.

Really? I said, frowning lightly. What is he, then?

I'm not sure.

The cat looked up at Dante, and as if sensing, or actually understanding what he'd said, the cat padded to the door and meowed softly.

I think he wants out.

Of course. He's done his job, and now he's going home for his well-deserved reward. Let him out.

I did. We both stood in the open doorway and watched the cat trot all the way down my drive, cross the road and disappear into Mrs. Bench's yard. I lost sight of him when he skittered up the steps of her old brown brick porch. I figured a bowl of milk was awaiting him in the kitchen.

I don't know about you, but I'm beat, I said as I shut and relocked the door again.

You want to shower first? he asked.

Cocking my hip, I threw him a bitchy look and crossed my arms. I hated that he would actually shove the fact that we were no longer intimate in my face. We hadn't been intimate in a fortnight, nor had he stayed here, because the temptation would be too much for him.

Apparently, he was too tired to get my silent, malevolent stare, which should have melted him. Realizing I was holding my breath, I let it out. Go ahead. I'll use the one upstairs, I relented. I was too tired to be bitchy.

No. You look beat. I'll use that one, you use the downstairs one.

I opened my mouth to argue, and his finger came up to tap me on the nose. I insist. I'll take the couch. He swung away, the single braid whipping with his movement.

That's where I was going to put you, anyway! I let go the steam building up in me.

He chuckled as he opened the door and chugged up the stairs.

Son of a bitch!

Chapter 2

I woke up to the aroma of frying potatoes, bacon, and coffee. Yum.

Hunger had my stomach in knots as I tumbled out of bed and rushed to the bathroom. The wonderful thing about my bedroom being downstairs was there was a second door that led into the bathroom through my bedroom, this way I didn't have to go out into the world looking like crap. The other door of the bathroom opened out to the dining room. My mother had never liked this door leading into the bathroom from the dining room. She'd felt it was nasty to have a bathroom right off the room where we ate Sunday dinner, but my dad had never walled the door off. He didn't think it was nasty as long as you closed the door. After all, there were three doors right next to each other. The door next to the bathroom went upstairs, and the door next to that led down into the basement—which was much nastier than the bathroom by a long shot. The house was over a hundred years old, all the original oak wood floors and woodwork still in place and not painted over.

The aroma of bacon and coffee reeled me toward the kitchen. Back when Dante had moved in, he had done a lot of the cooking, picked up after himself, did the dishes, and did his own laundry. I thought I had died and gone to heaven finding that kind of man after my first boyfriend had been such a louse. But, as they say, nothing lasts forever. It would be my luck that